


don’t want to lie here, but you can learn to

by starboy_jack



Series: early morning thoughts [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Crying, Just Implied Because I Wanted To Keep It Sad, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Osamu is a good brother, Pining Miya Atsumu, Sad Miya Atsumu, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25911142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboy_jack/pseuds/starboy_jack
Summary: Osamu snorts. “If ya keep thankin’ me, I’ll take my invitation back.”There he is, Atsumu smiles briefly.“Oh shut yer trap, ya know ya wanna see me.”“Do I?”Atsumu hangs up on him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: early morning thoughts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858450
Comments: 11
Kudos: 331





	don’t want to lie here, but you can learn to

**Author's Note:**

> title is from everything i wanted by billie eilish

Osamu’s in Hyogo, but Atsumu knows he saw his match. He watches all of his games, right along with their parents. Atsumu thinks it’s so he can make fun of him when he fucks up a serve or toss. When he brings it up to his twin, however, Osamu says he would never.

Like Atsumu believes him.

After the scene in the locker room, he’d retired to his room, and promptly curled up in his bed, not bothering with his covers. Although he wants nothing more to be bundled under them, he’s too worn out to move that much. Thinking about his brother made something in his chest twist, _sadness_ , as much as he would hate to admit, so he pulls out his phone and dials his number.

“What the hell was that?” Is the greeting he gets, and Atsumu laughs.

“Hello to ya, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, hello. What was that?” 

It was a new record, really, Atsumu thought, as tears welled up in his eyes for the second time that evening.

“‘Tsumu?” And Atsumu lets out a sob.

“I can’t do it, ‘Samu.” His head hurts still from all the crying he did earlier, but he has more to give, so he just lets it out, too exhausted to hide it.

“Hey, hey. ‘Tsumu, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, sniffling as tears drip off his chin. And Osamu stays quiet, letting his brother gather his thoughts, and Atsumu’s grateful for it.

“I got addicted to a losing game, ‘Samu.”

The laugh he lets out is self deprecating and wet, and he knows Osamu is going to be confused.

“What are ya talkin’ about? Is that why ya lost?”

“Not talkin’ about the match.”

Osamu’s quiet after that. 

Hyogo’s three hours away by train, and Atsumu knows they have the weekend off from training, so instead of waiting for Osamu to respond, he blurts out,

“Can I come stay with ya fer the weekend?”

“Ya don’t have practice?”

Atsumu shakes his head, before he remembers Osamu can’t see him.

“No, Coach gave us the weekend off.”

Osamu’s gone quiet again, and Atsumu really wishes he’d stop doing that.

Atsumu knows Osamu’ll let him. He never really denies him, unless he’s being really stupid.

But honestly, at those points, it’s his own fault.

He knows Osamu’ll let him, and yet he can’t stop the pathetic _please_ he lets out. 

Osamu’s breathing sounds shaky on the other end, but Atsumu thinks he might just be imagining things. Because, Osamu being worried about him? Osamu’s never been worried about him a day in their lives.

But when Osamu opens his mouth and actually speaks, his voice breaks. 

_Oh_.

“Ya know ya don’t hafta ask, ‘Tsumu.” Something about his tone makes Atsumu frown. Osamu was never one for pity or even sympathy, and for a moment, he wonders what’s happened to his brother.

“I’m goin’ to catch the train in just a few moments, so I should get going. Thank ya fer lettin’ me stay.” 

Osamu snorts. “If ya keep thankin’ me, I’ll take my invitation back.”

There he is, Atsumu smiles briefly.

“Oh shut yer trap, ya know ya wanna see me.”

“Do I?”

Atsumu hangs up on him.

—

There’s not much to pack, for a weekend trip, and Atsumu ends up packing three outfits, and his bathroom necessities. 

It’s only after he finished everything that he looks and realizes his bag is _neat_. He scowls and tears at his bottom lip with his teeth. He stares at his bag for a little too much longer before deciding with a silent huff that it wasn’t worth his mind straining over, and he just shuts it, zips it up and tosses it over his shoulder.

Making a few quick rounds around his room, he checks to see if all of his lights are off, before deeming it acceptable enough to leave for the next two days. 

He locks up behind himself, sighing at how heavy his body feels. Once he gets to Hyogo, he’s going to promptly pass out on Osamu’s couch and never wake up.

He leans against his door for a second as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone, looking up train departures. There’s one leaving for Hyogo at 10:30, which he sees is in 20 minutes when he checks the time at the top of his screen. He sighs, that’s fine. It only takes about ten minutes to walk to the station anyway. He rolls his shoulders, and looks up.

And then immediately regrets it.

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi is opening his door and stepping out at the other end of the hall. 

The same end he needs to walk to in order to get to the elevator. He swears under his breath, letting his head smack against his door.

And ow, okay, that hurts, dumbass.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, before opening them and blinking back the blurry vision. He can do this. With a deep inhale, he hitches his bag higher and makes his way down the hall, eyes on the ground, and maybe that’s a coward’s way out, but in that moment, Atsumu doesn’t care.

“Miya.”

He stays silent. He doesn’t have to respond, he can just ignore him.

“Miya.”

He didn’t think it’d hurt this much to love somebody, but Sakusa Kiyoomi sure did prove him wrong. His eyes burn, and he hates the easiness of crying he’s had today. He doesn’t want to talk to Sakusa. He doesn’t want to look at him, because if he does, he’ll feel that supernova in his chest, under his ribcage, threaten to burst, and he doesn’t know if he wants to handle that. Actually, he doesn’t know if he _can_ handle that. 

“Atsumu.” And that makes his breathing catch, and he slows to a stop. His eyes are wide and anxious as he stares holes in the ground. Why him? Why’d he have to go and fall in love? This whole thing could have been avoided if Atsumu had just not _fallen_.

He clutches at his chest, fingers digging into his shirt. 

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t talk to me, Sakusa.” He turns his head to look at him, and feels the tears slip down his cheeks for the third time. “I don’t want to hear it right now.” 

With that, he pushes right past the spiker and into the elevator, legs shaky and heart racing, and Atsumu half wonders if he’s dying.

He definitely feels like he is.

\--

The train ride to Hyogo isn’t bad, just long and boring. Atsumu spends most of it on his phone, before clicking it off and turns to stare out the window instead. It’s dark, so all he really sees are the dark outlines of the trees and the stars shining brilliantly against the night sky. 

Atsumu wishes to be a star, far away from here and having to worry about nothing. Just a ball of gas and light in the sky with no care. Maybe he’d even go out with a flash and a bang.

He must be really losing it if he’s wanting to be a star.

But if he’s being honest to himself, he has no idea what to do about the entire situation. He’d basically confessed to Sakusa, told him outright that he loves him. And that image of his blank face is burned into the back of Atsumu’s eyelids so that he sees it every time he slides them shut.

Does Sakusa hate him? He waves that thought away. Sakusa tolerates him at best. He can’t exactly hate Atsumu because they’re teammates, and that’s bad chemistry. And Atsumu’s sure that they wouldn’t sync up as well as they did if Sakusa _did_ hate him.

Why does that thought put him at a slight ease?

Loving Sakusa Kiyoomi is weird. It feels like bright, loud colors and smells like hand sanitizer. 

Atsumu kind of hates it.

He might hate it even more if he started to actually _like_ the neon colors he wears, and the smell of all the cleaning products.

To be honest, he’d probably check himself into a hospital if that happened.

The platform’s just about empty when Atsumu steps onto it at one in the morning, but that’s expected. 

He sighs, realizing he completely forgot to get a ride to Osamu’s house, and resigns himself to the fate of walking.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk.

“Oi, ‘Tsumu.”

His head snaps up to meet the gaze of his brother, and that stupid familiar face that comes with it.

“‘Samu? What are ya doin’ here?”

“Ya thought I’d jus’ let ya walk back by yerself?”

That’s exactly what he’d thought.

“Well, yeah. Ya never were much fer compassion.”

Osamu rolls his eyes and smacks the back of his head. “I’m tryin’ to be a decent brother.”

“You? Decent? Since when?”

“I will make ya sleep outside.” The banter felt familiar, felt comforting, and Atsumu felt himself relaxing, a lazy grin spread across his face.

“Thanks, dumbass.”

“Yer mistakin’ me fer ya.” 

“That’s impossible, with yer black hair an’ all.” He ruffles it playfully right after, and grins more at the grumble his brother gives. 

They walk in silence after that, for a short while, before Atsumu speaks up again.

“Sunarin at yer place?” His brother hums his response and Atsumu tilts his head back to see the sky.

It was a lot easier to see it clearly out here, unlike in Tokyo. Atsumu smiles. He likes it out here.

“I got that spare futon fer ya in the closet.” Atsumu hums back.

“I might jus’ pass out on yer couch when we get there and never wake up, actually.”

“Don’t say things like that. You’ll get my hopes up.” 

“Rude.”

When Atsumu glances over, there’s a small smile on his brother’s face, and that makes something in his chest twinge.

It’s dark inside Osamu’s apartment, and Atsumu tries his best to toe off his shoes in the genkan without falling, padding across the floor to the couch, where he sets his bag down and falls on the furniture.

“If ya break it, yer buyin’ me a new one.” Atsumu waves his twin off, hoping to get some sleep finally.

But Osamu just leans over the back of the couch.

“‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu hums.

“‘Tsumu.”

He hums again.

“We have to talk about this.”

“Do we?” And Osamu looks exasperated.

“Yes, ya idiot. Because I’ve never seen ya cry, and ya call me cryin’?”

“I didn’ call ya cryin’.”

“Oh, sorry. Ya called me after I watched that horrible excuse of a game where ya flubbed almost every serve an’ toss, _then_ proceeded to cry an’ say yer addicted to a losin’ game, which makes absolutely no sense. Because if ya weren’ talkin’ about the match, what the hell were ya talkin’ about?”

“Why do ya care?” 

“Hah?” Atsumu turns to look at him. 

“I said, why do ya care?”

“I heard ya the first time, dumbass.” Osamu leans further in, mouth and brows pulled into a frown. “What I don’t understand is what ya mean. Of course I care, yer my brother.”

“Ya never cared before.”

“Where the hell did ya get that notion?” His brother scowls and flicks his forehead. “I’ve always cared about ya. Ever since we were kids, I cared. Jus’ because we banter back an’ forth doesn’t mean that it doesn’t worry me when ya call me an’ start cryin’. Ya _never_ cry in front of people, ‘Tsumu. Not even in front of me. I was scared.”

He looks at his brother in surprise, because up until now, he thought that Osamu only tolerated him because he had to. He sniffs. “I thought I was annoyin’?”

“Ya _are_ annoyin’, but that doesn’t mean anythin’. Yer my brother, Atsumu. I’m always goin’ to worry about ya. I’m always goin’ to love ya.”

He doesn’t know why he does, but Atsumu gets up onto his knees and pulls his brother in a hug, who stumbles and clutches at Atsumu for balance. 

“I love ya, too,” he mumbles, and he feels _and_ hears Osamu laugh.

“I know ya do.” He moves his arms around him to hug him back properly, and after a while, Atsumu isn’t sure how long they’d stayed like that when he pulls away.

“So,” Osamu begins. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Atsumu kind of groans at that and just sinks back down into the couch, patting the seat next to him, which Osamu ends up occupying right after.

“I’m in love with Omi-kun.”

“What?” His brother’s response is immediate.

“Ya heard me.”

“I did, but I also thought I heard wrong.” Atsumu shakes his head.

“No, ya heard right. I love him. And I made the stupid mistake of tellin’ him earlier. After the game.”

“Ya told him?” Atsumu looks at his brother, whose brows are furrowed.

“Yeah. I cried, too.” And now Osamu is surprised, but Atsumu waves him off. “It wasn’ on purpose. I was already upset from losin’ an’ he had to go an’ be an ass about everythin’. So I jus’- shoved him into a locker and told him it was his fault I couldn’t set.” Osamu snorts, and Atsumu smacks the back of his head.

“Ow!” 

“Stop interruptin’ me.”

“Oh, jus’ shut up an’ continue.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “He asked me what the hell I was on about, because it’s not like _he_ sets the ball anyway, an’ I jus’- told him. But in such a weird way.”

“Weird how?”

“I told ‘im that lovin’ him was a losin’ game.”

“Is that what ya were talkin’ about?”

Atsumu nods. “Yeah. It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but he’s so difficult to love. I don’t even know how I managed to fall fer him.”

“Yer always complainin’ about him.”

Atsumu punches him in the shoulder.

“Would ya stop hitting me?”

“Would ya stop being an ass?”

“No.”

“Then there’s yer answer.”

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

Atsumu grins at him, and Osamu rolls his eyes playfully.

“So yer in love with Sakusa, an’ ya don’t think he loves ya back.”

“Of course he doesn’t love me back. He’s him and I’m. Me.”

“Uh huh.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means ‘uh huh’, dumbass.”

“Obviously!” Osamu shoots him a glare.

“Keep yer voice down, will ya? Rin’s sleepin’.” Atsumu swallows, something burning in his chest.

“Sorry,” he says, and Osamu shrugs.

_“When you reach the age of eighty and have that confidence to say that you are happier than me- then you can make fun of me!”_

He can still feel Osamu’s hand in his jacket, gripping angrily. He can still see the set of his eyes as they narrowed and stared at him, into him.

He can still feel Osamu’s own jacket bunched up in his fists, shaking him with fury burning through his veins.

“ _When yer dead..! I’ll tell you ‘see? I was happier than you!’_ ”

The back of his hand feels wet, and when he looks down, he sees the drops of tears there. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the blurry vision before. He’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts, he supposes. 

Osamu’s hand is on his shoulder, grounding him, and he sobs, tears coming faster.

“I- I really am pathetic.” Hands bury his face in, tears dripping off his palms. All these years of Atsumu wanting to be the better twin, of wanting to be the most prideful and successful, it turns out after all, that it was Osamu. 

Osamu with his rapidly growing business and his perfect relationship. The much quieter one, out of both of them.

The more liked.

“ _I really do hate ya, y’know._ ”

“ _Right back at ya!_ ”

Why would Sakusa Kiyoomi ever like him?

Hands cradle his head and it makes Atsumu look up, watery eyes gazing at his brother.

“Yer not pathetic,” Osamu frowns. He guides Atsumu’s head to lay in his lap, running fingers through his hair like their mother used to. It’s so out of character for Osamu, but the action feels so much like home, that he can’t stop the tears from coming faster. He just twists, turns, and buries his face in his brother’s shirt, and clings. “Ya never were.”

His shoulders shake, wrack with sobs, and his heart burns. It’s not pretty, his crying, like he’s seen from some people.

It’s not pretty, no, because he’s in pain. Cries force themselves out from somewhere he’s never thought to keep an eye on, his breathing so harsh it jerks his whole body when he tries to breathe in. He slaps his hand down on Osamu’s side. Not hard enough to hurt, weak more than anything, but he’s so tired. Osamu’s hand takes his own and keeps it still, but the other still trails soothing fingers in his hair. 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but Atsumu sniffles, pulling away to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand, and Osamu speaks.

“Are ya okay?” 

No. No, he is _not_ okay. His head is pounding, and he can barely breathe out of his stuffed up nose. His eyes burn from crying and he’s so exhausted. 

He’s not okay. He loves Sakusa _fucking_ Kiyoomi. 

He doesn’t answer him.

Osamu sighs and gets up. Pats him on the shoulder and tosses him a blanket. He goes to bed, leaving Atsumu on the couch with his own mind. 

Leaves him with his thoughts.

Atsumu just stares at the ceiling until it blurs, and he rubs at his eyes.

And wishes he could be a star.


End file.
